Reconciliatory Navigational Skills
by Roxanne J
Summary: Amid a raging battle for control of the Caribbean seas, Will and Liz rebuild burned bridges. And dear William proposes. Again? [Based on the AWE trailer] [AU] [Willabeth]


**Setting:** An _A/U_ take on the AWE proposal and kiss. Written way before the movie came out, with only the first trailer to work with.

**Author's Note: **Reviews are loved, as always!

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**Reconciliatory Navigational Skills**

_The end._

_We're going to die._

_Beckett wins._

_Will…._

I can't see him…even though I've spent half of my life searching for him through crowds; standing high on my toes to catch a glimpse of him in the streets, watching as he fought to free Jack from the gallows, finding him in shackles among my wedding guests.

This isn't how it's supposed to end. We're meant to be together in Port Royal. We're _not_ meant to be divided by irrational anger and cutthroat pirates.

I want to call out for him, but something holds me back. My mind tells me I hesitate for fear of distracting him, wherever he is, but my heart tells me differently. My heart knows the truth. A fear of rejection.

"Miss Turner!"

Barbossa, who's never been set straight about my surname. I glance to the right, in the direction of his shout, to find him standing with his pistol aimed straight between my eyes. Before I can react to the threat, something sweeps my feet out from beneath me.

The crack of the pistol firing forces my eyes shut and I hold my breath, waiting for the searing pain that I'm told comes with being shot. Instead I connect hard with the deck, hear a thud and a clatter, and then Barbossa's slightly demented yelp of triumph.

"Bit distracted, Lizzy?"

Still dazed from the impact on the deck, I force my eyes open to find Jack sprawled out beside me. He's smirking in a way that immediately tells me he fancies _himself_ the source of my distraction. He nods behind us, and I shift just enough to see a Navy officer, our enemy, lying immobile on the deck with a smoking hole through the front of his uniform.

Barbossa wasn't making an attempt at murder after all.

This realization only just has time to sink in, before Jack lunges and falls on top of me; he grips my shoulders and throws us both into a roll across the deck. A sword embeds itself in the deck where we were laying only seconds before; another pistol fires and the owner of the sword falls.

Jack brings us to a stop near the quarter deck, me beneath and him straddling my hips. I can't work out if he's done it on purpose or not. The only conscious thought I'm aware of is how terribly this will hurt Will, to find us like this.

After the potential consequences of _that _scenario register, I immediately move to throw Jack off. His hands are still firmly against my shoulders, and all I manage is an attempt at sliding from under him.

"Warmin' up to me, Luv?"

Truly, there aren't words for this man. I struggle to get my tongue around a decent retort, but–

"Elizabeth!"

Oh, God. Will's seen us. He sounds furious and unreasonable; whatever miniscule chance of reconciliation that remained…it's definitely gone now.

"Elizabeth, shoot!"

Perhaps not. The words, and the inflection of his voice, are infinitely familiar. Desperate and panicked.

'_Shoot! Elizabeth, shoot!'_

_The Kraken._

_Blind panic._

_Will's stupid blow-up-the-beastie-and-kill-myself-in-the-process plot._

What in _hell _has he gotten himself into now?

I glance around the deck wildly, unable to see anything more than a tangle of feet and coat tails. Jack isn't sparing me even the most fleeting of looks now; he's crouched in some sort of defensive stance, kneeling protectively over me and deftly dispatching any opponent who dares to come near enough.

"Will?" I call out frantically, my eyes still searching even though it's become clear that he isn't on the main deck.

"Shoot him, Elizabeth! I can't — cheating bastard!"

At last I find him, standing near the helm on the quarter deck, dueling furiously with Norrington. He catches my eye for an instant, and I immediately see why he's swearing at James; a long cut runs the length of his cheek, gently oozing blood.

Without thinking I lunge for Jack's pistol and twist it from his belt.

"Oi! What're ya-"

Can Will really mean for me to shoot him? Yes, he's betrayed us…betrayed everyone, actually…but does he truly deserve it? Despite everything, he _is_ a good man. There was a time when I could have loved him, a time when Will believed I loved him.

_Will._

"It would never have worked, Jack," I mumble, because I can think of nothing more to say to him. If I don't speak, and give him a distraction, he will surely wrench the gun from my hand; everyone knows how he feels about his pistol.

My hand shaking, I lean up on one elbow and take aim, my thumb moving to cock the pistol. I pause for the tiniest fraction of a second, hoping I don't miss, although at such close proximity it would be almost impossible, and praying that this is what Will wanted because he's far too engaged to communicate anything more at the moment.

After a deep breath and a long instant of forced calm I squeeze the trigger. The resounding bang of the shot echoes in my ears, and I feel Jack wince beside me. I look away, hardly believing what I've just done. He breaks the silence first.

"You know Luv, if you keep tellin' yourself that, you might actually start to believe it," Jack drawls and gives me a smirk, which I return despite myself. He forces a sword into my free hand and charges toward the epicenter of the fighting.

I quickly look back to the helm; Norrington's leaning against the wheel, clutching at his right shoulder and struggling to keep his sword held firmly, while Will's taking the steps leading to the deck three at a time to reach me. I stand and move to meet him, very much aware that neither of us is concerned with the battle at hand anymore. It makes perfect sense; this is the breaking point.

His hot breath meets my lips distractingly, his panting becoming more labored, just before his mouth finds mine. He tastes of salt, and rain, and sweat, and there's the metallic tang of blood from the cut across his cheek. He's perfect, and he's Will, and I can't help but melt into the kiss, even though it hurts. I know what I've done to him, and the guilt paired with his unwillingness to listen has been absolutely unbearable. Still, for a moment the wild rolling of the ship and the shouts and pistols firing all fade into a welcome blur of sound and motion.

He begins to pull away, but my fingers grasp his coat in a death-grip and he relents, continuing the kiss. I don't want to imagine what comes after this; my thoughts are racing through too many potential situations, and it's far easier to kiss Will than talk to him. I've tried to make him understand, but words can't alleviate his confusion; _I_ still can't understand why I did it, not fully, and I certainly can't explain it. And if I can't explain it to myself, how can I ever be expected to explain it to Will?

A strangled sob escapes my lips at the hopelessness of it all, and even though the sound is muffled because of the kiss, Will recognizes it for what it is. He immediately pulls me closer, mumbling something unintelligible against my mouth. I can't understand his words, but his tone is soft and reassuring and his side of the kiss fades from passionate to gentle. After another long moment he moves to pull back again, and this time I let him.

His eyes are brighter than usual and I have a suspicion that he's close to crying as well, even though he'd never admit it. I want to apologize again, but the words refuse to come and Will finds his voice first.

"Will you marry me?"

It definitely startles me. His words are strong and confident, and his eyes are completely serious.

The entire premise is ridiculous; we're already engaged. I accepted this very same proposal nearly two years ago. But at the same time it's so very like Will to choose this very instant to do this, that I can't help but understand it. I have a sneaking suspicion that 'Will you marry me?' actually means 'Do you promise never to kiss Jack again, ever?' but it doesn't matter because both questions deserve a resounding _yes_.

But because time is short, and in all actuality there's no guarantee of another kiss after this conversation, I throw myself at him again and claim his lips. He responds furiously, and I can feel him grinning through the kiss.

"Yes, Will," I mumble into his mouth, and both of our swords clatter to the deck unheeded. Tears are mixing with the rain against my cheeks, and I can't quite decide if I want to laugh or cry or keep kissing him. Will makes the decision; he tangles one hand through my hair and uses his free arm to pull me roughly against him.

The first kiss was reconciliation; this kiss is compensation. He works my mouth feverishly with his own, grazing my lips with his teeth more than once in the process. I reciprocate everything he gives without wavering, even though his intensity has me panting to get breath and ready to collapse against him.

We're invincible. Or we've temporarily shocked our enemies enough to keep them at bay. Either way, despite the situation, it is the perfect moment because he's still willing to have me after everything I've done.

Will breaks the kiss and drops his eyes to meet mine.

"Stay close, Elizabeth," he tells me. "I won't lose you again."

_Fin_


End file.
